


Painted Hearts

by melanoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Loki is a Tease, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Painting, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoms/pseuds/melanoms
Summary: Frigga and Odin call upon your artistic talents for portraits of the princes. Loki is determined to use the time to extract as many personal details from you. Yet, even after all these years apart, you could always see right through him.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 127





	Painted Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Request: Would you be okay with writing something with Loki and a reader with a praise kink. Maybe he has a crush on her and somehow finds out about it? And then uses it to tease her? (She can know what he's doing, or be completely oblivious)... And of course the crush is mutual.

In the throne room, Frigga clasped her hands over yours and smiled.

“Oh, the boys will be thrilled. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you.”

“Yes, it’s been far too long. Although I don’t know how they’re going to feel about staying still for hours. Especially Thor.”

“He’s fought armies. He can pose for a portrait. Especially if it is one painted by your hand.”

“Let me know when they are available and willing. The second is most important. I will adjust my schedule accordingly.”

“Bless you.”

She gave your hands a squeeze before releasing you. You left the palace to prepare for the biggest commission of your career.

As you shed the youth of your adolescent years, the trajectory of your life diverged from that of the princes. You spent hours committing paint to canvas while Thor excelled upon the battlefield.

And Loki…

Well, let’s just say you stopped talking anytime whispers of him filled the room.

All those years together were relics of the past. 

The sleepless nights where he dazzled you with his magic in the gardens. When he enchanted your paint until dawn. The youthful kiss he surprised you with in the library at midnight. 

All simple relics of the past.

As Loki’s ambitions grew, so did the distance between you. Which, by all counts, was exactly what was supposed to happen. He was royalty and you were, well, you. A humble artist.

But even if you weren’t of a station befitting a prince, you still felt a prominent beating in your chest when given this commission. Sharing a room with Loki…alone...for hours on end. It’s like you were a girl all over again.

Frigga extended an invitation to you within two days. 

Your work on Thor’s portrait was some of your best yet. The fresh light of the morning glistened from his armor in a way that some would call picturesque, but you would deem magical. 

He was “honored” (at least in his words) to have your hand capture his essence. Although you insisted you captured nothing, but, in fact, unleashed it.

One down. One to go.

The evening of your first day of painting with Loki, you set up your paint and canvas on his balcony. Your hands shook as you clutched a brush. You would certainly have to control your nerves to regain your steadfast grip.

But your plight was not appeased when Loki strutted out of his chambers…

All clothing long abandoned.

“OH GODS!” 

You cowered behind your canvas.

“If my father is going to commit my image to canvas, it’s going to be like this. I’d like to see him hang this up in the throne room.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the lack of response.

“You’re an artist. How can you be so offended by the physical form?”

“Loki…”

His eyes widened.

That voice.

He knew that voice. After hearing his name breathed between those lips countless times over the years, of course he knew precisely who was seated behind that canvas.

How could no one tell him the artist commissioned was…

“Hi.”

You waved at him, entire body and field of vision safely shielded by the (in your opinion) over-compensatingly large canvas. 

Loki gulped. “I haven’t seen you in…”

“Years.”

“How much did you…”

“I’m not painting you like this.”

“Very well.”

He materialized a dark green tunic and black trousers, rather plain-looking. But it certainly did the trick.

“You can, er, come out now?”

“Is that a question? Because I really need you to be certain.”

“I’m fully clothed.”

Inching your stool over, you tightened your grip around your brush and grimaced.

“I thought they told you it was me. If you’re committed to the idea, I can certainly find another—”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Erm, alright then.”

“If I had bothered to look at Thor’s portrait, of course I would have known it was you. Your style is distinct.”

“Thank you?”

“Your technique has grown tremendously over the years. I admit I’m rather impressed.”

Flutter. Pitter-patter flutter in your chest.

“You, you’ve seen my recent work?”

“How could I not?”

Heat rushing to your cheeks, you glanced down and smirked. 

“What, um, what would you like for this? I had rather strict instructions. But you and I always found a way to, erm, bend the rules.”

“No.” He shook a finger. “I’m not going to jeopardize this opportunity for you.”

“Loki, you really expect me to believe—”

“I’m not a child anymore. I presume you’re relying on this commission?”

Glancing to the side, you swallowed and gave him a nod.

“Very well. We’ll do this properly.”

“One condition.”

“I thought that was my line?”

“You can’t look until I’m done.”

“Why?” Loki furrowed his brow. “You always let me watch your process. At least...you used to.”

“I’m not a child either. I’m a professional. And I’m asking you to respect the way in which I must work.”

“I must confess, ambition becomes you, elskan.”

Why did he always insist on addressing you in such a manner? It always tormented you. But perhaps, that was exactly the reason.

“Get in your armor, dear prince. We’ll be spending quite some time together.” 

You smirked and readied your brush. 

As the first strokes passed by in a blur, you cleared your throat and shifted on your stool.

“Aside from the obvious embarrassment, how was your day?”

“Don’t bore me with pleasantries,” Loki scoffed. “Tell me what you desire.”

“Nothing, I am quite satisfied.”

He rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true. But I’ll get it out of you.”

With the very tip of your tongue protruding from your lips, you redirected your focus to the canvas. Loki realigned his posture, holding a dagger in each hand in a fighting stance.

“You hold that brush with such conviction,” he mused. “It’s a rare sight.”

Breath caught in your throat, the brush clattered to the floor. He snickered.

“Or perhaps I was premature.”

“Will you just, just stop talking?”

“Only if you compensate for the silence. You have married, I presume?”

“No.” You bore your eyes into the canvas.

He smirked, deftly erasing the evidence of his satisfaction when your eyes flickered back to his face. 

“Then you are in love?” Loki raised his eyebrows. “Surely. That bleeding heart of yours would prove useful eventually.”

“What happened to your vow of silence?”

“Ah, only if you tell me who holds your heart, elskan.”

“Sounds to me like you enjoy answering your own questions.”

“You could always see through me,” he chuckled. “Not many are so perceptive. Then again, you always transcended the ordinary. ”

Your breath caught in your throat. And it certainly did not go unnoticed by your subject.

Every evening, you visited Loki during the Golden Hour on his balcony; your time together measured by the descending sun. 

Loki took it upon himself to interrogate you with as many personal questions as he could muster, confirming your preference for certain biscuits and admittedly fine taste in literature. 

Surely, he was just trying to prove his memory right. 

Surely.

After two weeks of volleying questions back and forth, Loki felt the brazenness growing in his chest. Studying your behavior was the highlight of his day. 

When your entire focus was transfixed on the canvas, Loki licked his lips and gave you a sideways glance.

“Such a good girl,” he hummed. “So attentive to your craft.”

Your entire body froze.

“How many more nights are you going to find an excuse to visit me?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s not an excu-excuse. It’s a job. We’ve already discussed this.”

“Elskan, I know you finished days ago.”

Holding your breath, you slowly raised your gaze to meet his. The corner of his lip tugged in a smirk. Ah, some things never change.

“Your process hasn’t changed at all,” he observed. “Aside from, well, my privilege to be a part of it.”

“Would you like to know why?”

“No,” he breathed, for the truth would surely wield a sharpened blade.

“Loki, please.” You rose to your feet. “Come see for yourself.”

Stepping aside, you gestured to the canvas. 

Loki disarmed and removed his helmet, setting it on the stone bench that silently accompanied so many of your nights together. He approached you with a heavy step as the gilded buckles and clasps of his armor shook with anticipation.

On your side of the canvas, Loki’s eyes widened at the image before him.

There he was dressed in a tunic and black trousers. He sat upright with his back pressed against a tree in the darkness. Silver orbs of light danced above the book he read.

A volume of Asgardian children’s tales.

The same text he read to you on many cool nights, much like the one you shared at that very moment.

“You,” he swallowed, “you could always see through me.”

“And you could always read me.”

“I’m so sorry I never stayed in touch with you.”

“An apology is hardly necessary. You live a life of such obligation.”

“It is not necessary and yet it must be said.”

“Loki…”

He rushed to wrap his hands around the side of your face.

“I have missed you. Terribly so.”

“And I, I’ve missed you too.”

You looked into his eyes. The same eyes that cherished gazing upon you throughout the years. Even if the past few weren’t as kind as he wished.

Breaking the unspoken spell between you, Loki magnetized himself to you in a kiss. A small gasp escaped your lips, which he graciously received upon his own.

After all these years, he should have known better. 

With you, everything came to light once the sun finally set. 

You threaded your fingers into his hair, painting his strands with the same silver that illuminated your canvas. As the two of you stumbled into his chambers with overflowing hearts, he withdrew and looked into your eyes.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“I’d be humiliated to confess for how long. Yes, I do. Very much so.”

You crawled onto his bed, bringing him with you by the lapels of his coat. 

With every brush of your lips, you each dutifully shed articles of clothing. Loki wouldn’t dare use his seiðr. This was an artistic endeavor that required his full physical devotion.

Once you were both void of all clothing and masks, he traced the side of your face with the back of his hand.

“I am utterly amazed at who you have become.”

“And I you.”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

He leaned in to kiss you again. 

“What do you say, elskan? When I tell you what a masterful beauty you have become?”

“Thank you,” you hummed, leaning your head back as he adorned your jawline and with devoted kisses.

“Very good,” he praised.

Loki trailed his hand along your waist, pausing at the inside of your thigh.

“Are you sure? Because I can stop.”

“Yes, I am certain.”

He placed an approving kiss on your sternum. 

Arching your back, you gasped an inhale as he delicately applied pressure to your pleasure center. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this very moment. It was one of the few lies that tasted bitter upon his tongue. But now, that bitterness softened to sweetness as he traced circles over you with a smirk.

“Very good. So responsive.”

Receiving your grateful whimpers as permission, he deftly inserted a finger in you. Your body replied with an overwhelming warmth as you freed a long-overdue moan from your throat. 

As Loki continued to accelerate the rate of his thrusts, you fisted the sheets. He appreciated the view as your body twitched and tensed by his command, adding an additional, approving finger next to the first.

“You enjoy my fingers upon your skin, don’t you, elskan?”

“Gods yes.”

“Do you deserve more?”

You tilted your head upward, just enough to smirk at him.

“Of course I do.”

“Brazenness becomes you.”

He leaned in to kiss you, simultaneously blessing you with overwhelming pleasure. Wanting nothing more than to witness the glow of your ecstasy, Loki manipulated his fingers to give you a taste of all that he did not say to you over the years. 

You threw your head to the pillow with a cry as your body convulsed in gratitude. And he knew, this was only the beginning of a new relationship with you. The kind that only graced his daydreams, fully manifested by the glow of moonlight.

“May the gods worship you, elskan. For you have united me with divinity.”

Breath labored, you reached for him in a daze. But you squeaked a sound when he retracted, already clothed again. 

When did he clothe himself? You simply couldn’t remember.

“Ah, ah,” Loki teased. “I decided that you haven’t earned me yet.”

“Loki...it’s been years. Please.”

“And we will have hundreds more together.” He pressed a kiss to your desperate lips. “You won’t get me until I am satisfied with how much pleasure I can extract from you first.”

A wicked smirk spread across his lips as you threw your head back with a groan.

“Unfortunately for you, elskan, satisfaction is not in my nature. But you, of all creatures, might just prove me wrong.”


End file.
